Broken Valentine
by Suicidal Grasshopper
Summary: Kevin is with Michael. Rei is maternal. Blitzkrieg Boys offer a way out. Bottom line: Abuse is bad. Rating is proactive.
1. Chapter 1

Hahahahahaha I feel like such a genius for posting this now.

Why?

Because I'm on my school's computers, and Fanfiction's supposed to be blocked.

FIREWALL BYPASSED, PEOPLE.

Which merits absolute thanks to Azikarue394, who gave me the secret to getting past the firewall. (seriously, is there anything that Google can't do?)

ANYWAY. This started as a V-day fic (don't gag, please. It's impolite), but then steadily spiraled out of control, and now it's going to be a multichapter fic for xChewy. Grace, I have the next chapter and a half done, so don't kill me. I'm working. D:

Summary: Kevin is with Michael. Rei gets worried and maternal. Blitzkrieg Boys get involved. Alcohol causes problems. Bottom line: Abuse is bad.

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Michael wrapped an arm around Kevin's shoulders. "Anything interesting in the mail?"

Kevin smiled a strained smile and kissed his boyfriend on the lips, hiding the letter in his back pocket while he was distracted. "Nothing important," he said quietly. "Just bills and junk mail."

* * *

Kevin gingerly pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He glanced over his shoulder at Michael after crossing to the door, making sure that he was still asleep before continuing to the stairs.

Pulling open the junk drawer in the kitchen, he rummaged around for a moment before his fingers closed on a slightly tattered envelope.

The letter clutched to his chest, he padded back upstairs to the bathroom--the one place he was sure to not be interrupted.

He tore open the envelope, wincing at the sharp crackle that seemed to echo off the tiles. Sitting carefullly on the edge of bathtub, Kevin unfolded a handwritten letter and smiled at the comforting familiarity of the handwriting.

_"Hey, Kevin,_

_"I hope this letter finds you okay. Even though you didn't say anything definite in your last letter, I'm worried about you. I didn't like some of the things I read between the lines, and I might have vented a little bit to Mariah, and apparently she told Tala what I said (did I tell you that they were together?). Anyway, long story short, the Blitzkrieg Boys agree that something's not right. So, they've agreed to look in on you every once in a while. Just humor me, please? I'm worried about you. And you won't even know they're there."_

The letter continued onto less serious topics, but Kevin had stopped reading. Part of him was relieved to have a back-up plan, but the overruling portion of his brain was stunned beyond comprehension of the fact that someone was worried enough about him to wade into his mess of problems. He'd gotten himself into the situation he was in by nothing but his own stupidity--and Michael wasn't _that _bad. Sure, he could be a little...insensitive, sometimes, but he could be the same way, so it wasn't really fair of him to judge, could he? It wasn't anything to worry over anyway...

* * *

Short, but more of a prologue anyway. The next chapter should come...weekendish. Maybe tomorrow night if I get major response.

Review? Because I'm needy?


	2. Chapter 2

Little later than I had hoped, but this weekend was absolutely insane, so I had no time. Got to go to a concert with some friends of mine Sunday night, so that was a plus, I guess.

...But I digress.

Summary: Kevin is with Michael. Rei gets worried and maternal. Blitzkrieg Boys get involved. Alcohol causes problems. Bottom line: Abuse is bad.

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

"Eggs, pancake mix, chocolate chips, Raisinettes...what else was I here for...?"

A solidly-built shadow materialized behind him. "Raisinettes? Really?"

Kevin looked up to see a keptical, condescending smile about six inches above his head. "Bryan?" He shook his head, dislodging his nose-length bangs from behind his ears. "Shut up, I like them."

Bryan laughed. "Mariah likes them too, so I've learned to keep my mouth shut, usually."

Kevin looked up at him skeptically. "How did you--

"She's living with Tala, and by _very _remote extention, me," he explained, leaning casually against the shelves. "Apparently, she volunteered to help with the reconstruction of the abbey--I'm convinced she's out of her mind."

"Obviously, if she's still with Tala. As I recall, he was a jackass the last time we met."

Bryan raised an eyebrow. "He was also completely sober and forced to deal with a crowd last time."

"So, what you're trying to tell me is, Tala is actually easier to deal with when he's drunk?" Kevin wandered down the aisle, recovering his personal space under the guise of looking for some unnamed object.

"Or at home. Those tournaments were murder on him."

Kevin nodded absently, threw a bag of apples in his basket just for the hell of it, and headed for the check out lanes.

Against all logic, Bryan followed him, hands nestled causually in his pockets. The cashier, a bubbly teenage girl with auburn hair pulled back into two pigtails, slid Kevin's groceries into a large paper bag and smiled like she approved of them as a couple. Kevin saw and blinked, wondering where on earth she had come up with that idea. "Total's $28.57, honey," she said sweetly, placing his bag on the conveyor belt.

Wordlessly, he handed her two twenties and closed his fingers around a bundle of bills and coins when she gave him his change. "Have a good afternoon," she said pleasantly.

"Thanks, you too," Kevin said absently. Before he could move to pick up the bag, Bryan retrieved them and nodded forward, silently instructing him to lead the way.

Kevin shrugged and started toward the entrance of the grocery store.

"Do you live very far from here?"

The warm afternoon breeze ruffled his hair as they walked. "Not too far, only a couple blocks. Michael's job is a ways away, and he doesn't really like me being too far away from home without him."

Bryan didn't say anything in response, secretly accusing himself of reading more into the relationship than he should.

"I can take those, if you want," Kevin volunteered, looking from Bryan to the bag of groceries.

"I'm fine. You know where we're going better than me, anyway."

Kevin floundered, wondering if Bryan had meant to follow him home from the beginning. _Rei did say that they'd check up on me every once in a while..._ He shook his head and focused his attention on the cracks in the sidewalk. "So, Bryan," he started awkwardly after they had walked in silence for a minute.

Bryan looked down at him, politely interested.

Kevin fought the urge to fidget--he hated it when people looked at him when he was talking. "What brings you to San Francisco, anyway?"

* * *

There. Way longer. Minor cliff hanger at the end, but whatcha gonna do.

Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

Fffffffffffff this hasn't been updated in forever. ;-; Sorry.

But at least I'm not snowed into the hotel where I'm staying like I thought I was going to be last night. And I was bored and kind of melancholy at being stuck in a hotel room by myself for days on end last night, so I got something done. Be warned, it's pretty much all dialogue, but it's important. So bear with me.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

"Do you want a Coke or something?"

Bryan looked over from perusing the DVD cabinet and shrugged. "Sounds good," he said noncommittally.

Pulling two aluminum cans out of the box in the fridge, Kevin walked back out into the front room and handed one to Bryan. Opening his own, he pushed the tab up and down repetitively to break it off before taking a sip.

He found Bryan studying him intently when he pulled the can away from his face. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just Tala does the same thing. Usually just to drive Spencer nuts, when he finds them laying randomly through the apartment."

Kevin nodded and sat on the couch, unsure of what to say.

Stepping away from the DVD cabinet, Bryan raked a hand through his hair. "Heard from Rei at all lately?"

"Yeah, why," Kevin asked slowly, taking another sip of his Coke.

Shrugging, Bryan casually flopped into the armchair sitting against the far wall. "He probably warned you that we'd be looking in, didn't he?"

"That's why you're here now, isn't it." The younger boy stared at the coffee table, his expression blank and thoughts spinning.

"Look, kid, Rei's worried, and when Rei's worried, Kai usually looks into things. If you can prove everything's okay here, we'll get out of your hair and go back to Russia, alright?"

"...Who's 'we,' exactly?"

"Just me and Spencer. He had to make sure I wouldn't kill anyone while I was outside the country."

Against all logic, and every synapse firing in his brain, Kevin laughed at that. "I can imagine where that would be necessary."

"Hey, I only shoot people who need to be shot. And I'm usually fair about it, too--Tala leaves them to suffer when he's holding the gun."

Kevin blinked and looked up at him, stunned slightly.

Silence diffused like food coloring in a glass of water.

Finally, Kevin asked hesitantly, "...Does Mariah know that Tala--?"

"Yeah. Hell, he's killed for her." Bryan studied Kevin's reaction for a long moment. "I never said he B_enjoyed_ killing, Kevin. He's not going to do it without a damn good reason for it.. And he's sure as hell never going to hurt her."

Unconsciously, the smaller boy relaxed. "Oh."

"Now, you and Michael, on the other hand--"

Kevin's eyes slid down to the carpet under the coffee table.

"Kevin, if there's something going on, we can get you out. All you need to do is say so."

"There's nothing going on." Kevin's voice sounded as 2-dimensional and lifeless as dialogue in a poorly written novel.

"Bull."

Pushing his nose-length bangs away from his face, Kevin lifted his eyes to meet Bryan's disbelieving gaze. "I think it would be better for us both if you left," he said quietly.

Wordlessly, Bryan stood and made his way to the door. Kevin didn't move.

The door slammed shut. Kevin was still staring at the condensation on Bryan's half-full Coke can.

* * *

"Why does he have to be so stubborn? God, it's so--"

Spencer looked up from the screen of his laptop and shook his head. "Calm down, you'll break something."

"Spence, I know something's up, he knows I know, and he's _still_ denying it."

"Quit whining, you sound like Ian."

"I do not!"

Spencer focused his attention back on his laptop with a smirk.

Pausing, Bryan shook his head and said, "What are we going to do?"

"We? I'm only here to make sure you don't kill or get killed, remember?"

"But--"

"I'm sure Kai wouldn't mind giving you pointers on interrogation techniques if you're that frustrated."

The silver-haired Russian shook his head again. "I still think that we should just kidnap him and take him back to Russia with us."

"Bryan."

"It's logical," he muttered defensively.

Spencer turned to look at him incredulously. "In what dream world is an international kidnapping a logical approach to solving a problem?"

Bryan floundered for a moment, the flaws of the plan slapping him in the face. "...Fine. You win."

"Thank you. Go call Kai or someone. ...I'm sure Rei would be happy for an update."

"No way in hell I'm calling Pretty Boy. You do it."

"Then go call Kai. Or better yet, Tala."

Silence bubbled between the two as Bryan considered his options.

"Screw it, I'm gonna go take a nap."

* * *

Because taking a nap will solve everything.

Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Ooookay. Due to unforeseen *ahem* developments, I'm updating earlier than originally intended. But not again until SOMEONE gets her butt in gear. D: You know who you are.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Kevin let the knife fall, cutting the wedge of carrot on the cutting board in half. Blankly regarding the severed piece of orange flesh, he shook his head to clear the cobwebs from it and dumped the chunks into the pot boiling on the stove.

He sighed heavily and turned around to find the tomato he had purchased earlier that afternoon. Since Michael steadfastly refused to let him get a job, and often voiced his objections to Kevin being far away from their house on his own, he really had nothing better to do than cook meals, and run small errands in the neighborhood.

Now that he was thinking about it, it seemed like a horribly depressing existence. Kevin wondered why it had never occurred to him before.

"There you are," he muttered to the tomato sitting innocently on teh counter across the kitchen. Grabbing the fruit, he tossed it in the air before returning to the cutting board.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, Kevin's eyebrows edged together. Michael should've been home hours ago. It took him a while to get home, usually, but he tried to be home before dark.

Distracted by his boyfriend's absence, Kevin neglected to watch where the knife was headed. His mind jerked back to reality as Kevin hissed in pain.

"Just great," he muttered, inspecting the gash just above the knuckle on his index finger. The wound burned from tomato juice, and blood was seeping from it in slightly alarming quantities, but it didn't seem to be too bad, otherwise.

Flipping the burner on low, Kevin walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs, still inspecting the cut. He squinted and ran his uninjured hand along the wall when he got to the top of the stairs to find the light switch in the dark. Light flooded the hallway, making him blink involuntarily several times to clear the spots from his vision.

Able to see again, Kevin padded to the bathroom, his bare feet making no noise on the carpet.

A small sound caught his ears as he was turning on the sink to rinse the cut. He paused with his hand on the knob, ears twitching. It sounded like keys in the lock on the front door--that must be Michael. Kevin breathed a sigh of relief. Being home alone always unnerved him.

Grabbing a Band-Aid from the cabinet behind the mirror, Kevin trekked back down the stairs to welcome his boyfriend home, and perhaps throw in a question or two regarding his whereabouts.

"Michael?"

The door didn't open after the scratching stopped. Kevin wrinkled his nose and muttered, "Stupid door...always sticks..." He reached for the door knob and pulled it open with annoyed force. "Hey, Michael--"

Michael wasn't on the other side of the door.

Instead, a jumpy-looking young man scrabbled away from him, a piece of wire in one hand. Eyes wide and surprised, he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his baggy jeans and pulled something out, holding it at the ready like a weapon.

"Hey, what--"

The would-be burglar lunged forward, extending the box cutter as he closed in. The light from the inside of the house glinted off the panicked glaze in his eyes.

A bony shoulder knocked the wind out of Kevin as the burglar's weapon pierced between his ribs. A small scream, more from surprise than pain, escaped him. He pushed the twitchy teenager away from him and clutched the wound, leaning heavily on the door frame.

He watched the foiled thief scrabble away from the house before pulling his hand away from the wound to inspect the damage. Kevin felt his pupils dilate at the sight of his fingers coated in a thick layer of his own blood. His head spun and tilted like a carnival ride. Air suddenly became hard to come by.

The ground tilted underneath him, throwing Kevin into gravity's pull.

His head met the concrete with an audible smack, and the faint light spilling onto the side walk faded to nothing.

* * *

Bryan shuffled down the sidewalk, his hands deep in his pockets as he retraced his steps to Kevin's place. He scowled at a street sign and turned to follow the course of the concrete canal under his boots.

Flashing lights and the whine of a siren caught his attention, drawing his eyes up from the pavement. An ambulance was pulling away from Kevin's house.

A neighbor was standing in the doorway, watching the vehicle tear down the street. Bryan sauntered over and allowed his eyes to follow the vehicle hers were chasing. "What's going on?"

The woman, an elderly woman enrobed in a house dress carpeted in cat hair, eyed him for a minute before deciding that gossip would override caution. "The boy who lives in this house was just stabbed. Very exciting, yes," she said, a slight Lithuanian accent slurring her speech.

"Stabbed?" Bryan's thoughts raced through several different scenarios, none of which he was particularly comfortable with. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to break in to the house, and he was home alone. He opened the door right as the burglar was trying to get in." She grinned childishly. "Very exciting. Nothing ever happens in this part of town."

"Do you know what hospital they're taking him to?"

"San Francisco General Hospital. At least, that's what I think they said."

Bryan took off running in the direction the ambulance had disappeared, leaving a very confused old woman in his wake.

* * *

BUT WAIT. There's more. D:

Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

Because you are reading this, xChewy has updated one of her fics after...twoish months of hiatus. Which is awesome. And deserves an extra-long, extra-soon update. LIKE THIS ONE.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Michael walked up to the hospital desk, his steps measured and tightly restrained. "I'm looking for Kevin Ki," he said shortly to the nurse behind the desk, looking everywhere else.

"Visiting hours are over, sir."

He huffed and said hurriedly, "Nonono. You don't _understand_. My...boyfriend was stabbed a few hours ago. _Stabbed._ I _have_ to see him."

Smiling with a gentle weariness, the nurse leaned on her forearms and regarded him with a placid stare. "Okay, look. If he was stabbed a few hours ago, he's probably not even released for visitors, anyway. You can wait in the waiting room--there's coffee and a couple couches if you want to catch some sleep later--but until he's been given the all-clear by the doctor in charge, I can't even tell you what room he's in. Sorry."

"Can you at least tell me how he is?"

She leaned back and typed something into her computer. "Ahhh...it says he's in guarded condition."

"What the hell does that even mean?"

"Calm down, calm down. It just means that he's not in serious condition, but he's not stable yet. It's like...medical limbo." She spread her hands and shrugged to show that that was the best answer she could give.

"And you're sure I can't see him?"

"No, sir."

Realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere arguing with her, Michael sighed in defeat and took several heavy steps in the direction of the waiting room.

"I'll let you know when you can go see him, alright?"

He nodded tersely and shuffled off to the promised coffee in the waiting room.

Bryan walked out of the room just as Michael turned to enter, stopping an inch before a collision. Shaking off the surprise of seeing the Russian in a San Francisco hospital, cocky curiosity rooted in the American's mind.

"Well, Bryan. Long time no see. What brings you here? Always took you as more the kind to run instead of waiting at a hospital for someone."

Bristling, Bryan raised a fist. "Say that again, I _dare_ you."

"Whoa, whoa, easy," he drawled, holding up both hands with a smug grin. "It was just a simple question, no need to get worked up over it. Jesus, it's almost like you're...guilty of something?"

To his surprise, Bryan forced himself to lower his hand, inches from Michael's throat, and glared at him with a burning, almost feral anger. "I think we both know who's the guilty one here, Michael. If you have any scrap of self-preservation left, leave Kevin the _hell_ alone."

"Is that a threat?"

The Russian cracked a sadistic grin and sidestepped the stunned American. "That's your call, my friend." Through his leather jacket, Michael could see an out-of-place bulge on his ribcage. His eyes widened--Bryan had a shoulder holster.

He wasn't making an empty threat.

* * *

Bryan looked through the waiting room entryway and grinned. Michael was stretched out on the couch, fast asleep. _You snooze, you lose, moron_, he thought to himself with grim smugness.

"Room 394, you said?" He raised an eyebrow at the nurse.

"Yep. Be quiet, he's probably still sleeping."

"Yeah, yeah."

He sauntered to the elevator and pressed the button with the knuckle of his index finger, his inner Abbey trainee instructing him to not leave unnecessary fingerprints. The door slid open to an empty chrome box with a ding. Stepping inside, he pressed the button labeled with a worn-off 3 and moved back to the corner, hands in his pockets.

Bryan's phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a text from Spencer on the screen.

_Where are you?_

_Hospital. Kevin in Stable._

_  
_As he moved to put the phone back in his pocket, it vibrated again, bearing Spencer's reply.

_Want me to come?_

_  
No. Got it covered._

The elevator doors slid open with another ding. Bryan shoved his phone back in the pocket of his jeans and stepped off the elevator, listening to it close behind him as he walked down the hall. _396...395...Here we go. 394._

He pushed the door open and stepped into the quiet, dimly lit room. The shades on the windows had been drawn to a close, and the only sound came from Kevin's slow breathing, the heart monitor having been taken away several hours ago.

The door closed behind him with a snap, sharply bringing him to reality.

Kevin twitched and blinked languidly, groaning a little bit as he was pulled from the land of sleep. He looked over at the door and blinked again at Bryan, looking mildly opened his mouth to speak and found his voice was gone. _Bryan, _he mouthed, his eyebrows knitting together weakly in confusion.

"Yeah," Bryan said quietly, pulling a chair up to the side of the bed. "You feeling okay?"

A breathy chuckle escaped through Kevin's nostrils and he shook his head against the pillow, a sleepy smile quirking his lips upward.

"Where's Michael," he rasped, his voice dry and cracked.

"I don't know. Saw him earlier, but he left a while ago." Bryan studied Kevin's reaction, watching his eyes fall to the sheets with half-hearted disappointment, almost like he had been expecting the answer.

"He probably had to get to work."

Bryan scowled. "Doesn't mean he shouldn't have been here."

Smiling lazily again, Kevin shook his head. "That's just how he is."

"Then he doesn't--"

Bryan stopped himself just short of saying the words _deserve you _in conclusion to the sentence. Shaking his head, he steered his thoughts back to safer, less ponder-able ground. "How do the ribs feel?"

"Sore as hell?"

Chuckling, the Russian crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair. "Probably. Bruised?"

"Dunno. Still drugged up."

Bryan laughed, remembering similar experiences in the hospital.

Words became irrelevant for several long moments, leaving the two in comfortable silence and their own thoughts.

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Mmmh?" Bryan looked up at the violet eyes regarding him from the tiles shadowed slightly by the bed. "What?"

"Don't tell Rei or anyone, okay?"

"Why?"

Kevin bit his lower lip. "As soon as you say the word 'stabbed,' they're going to jump to conclusions and get worried. And I don't want that."

Bryan emptied his lungs through his nostrils and tried not to lose his patience with the younger male's lack of self-esteem. "Kevin, people are already worrying about you. They just want you safe, okay? I don't know how long it's going to take to get this through you're head--we all want you to be okay."

The pronoun usage wasn't lost on the slightly pointed ears. "'We'?"

Lavender eyes widened slightly at the wording he had used.

A knock on the door interrupted them, preceding a middle-aged nurse bearing a clipboard and a tray of medications.

"I'll see you later, Kevin," Bryan mumbled, dodging the woman and practically sliding out the door.

_What the hell...?_

* * *

Haaaahahahah. Bryan is confused. xD And Michael is a jerk. D: Even I don't like him.

Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

Fffff not nearly as long as I intended it. Oh well. At least it'll ease Grace's boredom somewhat, I hope.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Michael sauntered into the hospital room and smiled charmingly at Kevin. "Hey," he said quietly, walking up to the bed and sinking into the chair Bryan had vacated several hours before. "How're you feeling?"

Kevin finished peeling the orange on his lunch tray and smiled back with a tired air. "M'okay," he said, his voice still scratchy.

"That's good," he said, stealing a chip out of the open bag on the lunch tray.

"Hey, Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we get new locks?"

Michael stared at him for several long seconds. "I don't know why, but sure," he said finally.

"It's just, that guy almost-- And I don't--" Kevin sighed and looked down at the folds in the sheets. "Never mind. I'm just being stupid."

Smiling, Michael brushed Kevin's bangs out of his face. "It's okay."

The green-haired boy smiled half-heartedly.

"When do you think they'll release you?"

Kevin sighed and took a bite of the orange. "Dr. Gauen said that if everything checks out, I can leave by noon tomorrow."

"Awesome," Michael said, swiping another chip out of the bag.

"Yeah... Hey, I'm really tired. I'm going to take a nap, okay?"

Michael regarded the half-eaten lunch on the tray. "You're not going to finish eating?"

"Nah, not really hungry," Kevin said, offering a weak smile. "You can finish it, if you want."

"Okay." Michael shrugged, picking up the bag of chips to begin munching in earnest.

Kevin set the tray on the table beside the bed and pressed a button on the control panel to the bed frame, reclining it to a near-horizontal position. He closed his eyes and turned over on his side, wondering if Michael would leave while he was asleep.

The chair creaked as Michael stood up. A soft squeak issued from the door as it opened and closed again.

Kevin sighed. He knew his boyfriend had other things to do.

* * *

"You're sure he's okay?"

Bryan shifted the phone to rest between his shoulder and his ear and opened the fridge. "Rei, I already told you what I know. He's being released at noon tomorrow, and he's going back home with Michael."

"You don't seem terribly thrilled about that."

"I'm not," Bryan growled, fishing a beer from the far reaches of the top shelf. "I know something's not right, _he_ knows something's not right, and he's not letting me _do_ anything!"

"Who, Spencer," Rei asked.

"No, Kevin!"

Rei lapsed into a worried silence.

"And Spencer's not helping any, himself--he's not letting me intervene unless something happens!"

Bryan took a long drink from the open bottle and huffed.

"I really wish someone would die and give him an excuse to get away."

"Bryan."

Rei's reprimanding one coaxed a half-grin onto Bryan's face. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," the Chinese teenager sighed. "Doesn't make what you said okay, though."

"Yes, it does."

"I'm not arguing with you, Bryan."

"Damnit."

"How long are you guys staying in San Francisco?"

Bryan released a long breath. "Unless somthing changes with Kevin and Michael, one more week."

* * *

Kevin leaned against Michael's side as they walked up to the house. He released a heavy sigh as Michael's arm tightened possessively around him as they walked through the front door and out of the neighbor's gazes.

"You okay," Michael asked, looking down at him.

Kevin smiled thinly and nodded. "Just tired," he said, half-faking a yawn.

The blond nodded and released him to stand on his own. "I have to get to work. You'll be okay here while I'm gone, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he said mechanically.

"Cool. See you when I get home," he said, kissing Kevin's forehead briefly before turning and walking back out the front door, pulling it shut with a bang.

Kevin released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and turned to trek up the stairs to the room he shared with Michael.

* * *

Pretty much all word lettuce, with a few plot nuggets on top for flavor. It gets worse, I promise.

Please review.


	7. Chapter 7

And here comes the drama. Everyone got an umbrella handy?

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Bryan walked up the front steps of Kevin's house and tried the doorknob before knocking.

The door swung open a crack before opening all the way. A tired-looking Kevin smiled and stepped aside to let him in. "Hey, Bryan. Checking up on me again?"

"Rei asked," he offered in explanation.

Kevin walked into the kitchen, unconcerned with his semi-familiar house guest. "You want anything? I was just making myself lunch."

Bryan noted the crunchy peanut butter and raspberry jam spread out on the counter. "Huh, never pegged you as the peanut butter and jelly type."

"Michael got me hooked. He likes them."

Behind Kevin's back, Bryan scowled. "How's he been since you got home?"

Kevin laughed, a slightly hollow sound that held very little humor. "Gone a lot. I guess he needs to catch up at work from when he was at the hospital with me."

"He wasn't at the hospital with you hardly at all, remember?"

Looking over his shoulder from his sandwich, the Chinese boy shrugged. "Maybe it was enough to get him in trouble. I don't know."

"Seems to me that he'd tell you what happens at work."

"He doesn't have to."

"You're seriously that laid back about how he treats you?"

Kevin turned around fully. "And how does Michael treat me? He provides for me, and makes sure I have a place to live, which is more than I can say for everyone back in the village."

Bryan leaned on the counter. "Is that the only reason you're staying with him? Convenience?"

"No, of course not." Kevin didn't sound convinced of himself.

"Then why do you stay with him."

Kevin studied his socks with interest.

"You don't know, do you?"

"No, I don't!"

Bryan was startled by the outburst--he didn't think Kevin would react this badly to a little probing.

"I don't know why I stay with him, and I don't know why I feel like I need him like I do, and I don't know why I feel this confused, and I just want it to stop!" Frustrated tears spilled over from the pools at the corners of his eyes, tracing lines down the boy's cheek bones and along his jawline. "It's all your fault--I didn't feel anything like this before you came here! I wish you'd never found me in the grocery store, or talked to Rei, or even met any of them! I wish I'd never met you--you're more trouble than you're worth!" Kevin bit his lip, cutting off the tirade, and crossed his arms over his small chest, looking past Bryan out the bay window behind the kitchen table.

"Kevin--"

"You should go."

"I'm not leaving this time."

"You should leave San Francisco."

"No."

"Just leave me the hell alone."

"I refuse to do that."

"Why."

"Because I can't."

Kevin glared at him weakly. "Rei can't keep you here."

Bryan sighed heavily, longing for something alcoholic to dull the sharp nerves tensing up the muscles in his shoulders. "I don't get you, Kevin. Michael clearly neglects you, clearly you need better, you've had opportunity after opportunity to get out, and you're still _here_." Bryan made a vague motion to the kitchen and the rest of the house. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Violet eyes regarded the Russian blankly for a minute before lowering to the tile. Kevin's back met the cabinet behind him and he slid to the ground, looking exhausted. His eyes screwed shut as a sob pulled his head downwards onto his knees. "Everything," he choked out, arms snaking around his legs. "Everything's wrong..."

* * *

Kevin yawned and blinked sleepily, waking up from a satisfying nap. Sitting up, he looked around the room, his eyes drifting to a piece of paper on the dresser. "What're you," he mumbled to the scrap, folding the blankets off of his knees and standing up unsteadily.

Unfamiliar, spiky handwriting was scrawled across the piece of paper, drifting in and out of straight lines like unruly soldiers.

_Kevin-_

_ Spencer called, needs me back at the apartment. I'll come back in the morning. Here's my phone number--call if you need anything. I mean it._

_ -Bryan_

Kevin smiled at the sequence of numbers under the note. He'd probably never need to call the number, but having it settled the small "what if" portion of his brain somewhat.

Downstairs, the front door slammed. _That must be Michael_, Kevin thought, the "what if" piece of brain stirring to uneasiness again. "Mike," he called hesitantly, walking barefoot down the stairs.

The entry way was empty. Kevin frowned.

A crash issued from the living room, making the Chinese boy flinch. "Michael?"

_  
_He edged into the room and looked, terrified, at his boyfriend standing over a shattered lamp on the carpet. Michael turned to look over his shoulder and snarled. "You," he growled, his voice thick with alcohol. "You ruined _everything_!"

Kevin squeaked and tried to flee. Michael lunged at him and curled a hand around his shoulder. An audible pop burst from the joint, and Kevin stifled a scream as fire burned through his shoulder blade.

"I lost my _job_ because of you! And the hospital's gonna come after me because I can't pay _your_ damn bills!" His eyes held the wild, feral glint that Lee's had always held when he got drunk. Kevin's eyes widened in fear as he struggled to get away.

"Mike, you're drunk, you don't know what you're doing!"

A fist made contact with his cheekbone, knocking him to the ground.

"Shut up! You don't talk back to me--not after everything I've done for you!"

A foot made contact with his ribs, flattening the air out of his lungs. Pain burned through his chest.

"You're more trouble than you're worth!"

The same foot made contact with Kevin's head, slamming it into the floor and bringing spots dancing before his eyes.

* * *

Haaaahahahaha. Sorry, couldn't resist a Lee reference in violent context. xD

Please review.


	8. Chapter 8

Because xChewy gave me an offering to entice me to update. (I take those, you know.)

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Persistent humming pulled Bryan into consciousness. He blinked to clear the sleep from his vision and retrieved his phone off of the floor next to his bed, eyebrows furrowing at the unknown number on the screen. "Yeah?"

"Bryan?"

Kevin's breathing was ragged, and he sounded like he was fighting to stay conscious. "Kevin, what happened?"

A violent cough preceded an airy, sad laugh. "Michael," he gasped. "You were right."

Bryan growled, his mind immediately jumping to the worst possible scenario. "Goddamnit," he muttered. "Where are you?"

"Locked in the bathroom?"

"You're still in the house?"

"No shit, Sherlock."

Kevin's pained sarcasm relieved Bryan's fears a bit--he was still whole enough to catch stupid questions and respond accordingly.

"Stay put, I'm coming."

"No."

Bryan huffed. "Yes. The end."

"Please, Bryan, don't. I don't want you to get hurt."

"If anyone's getting hurt, it's Michael."

"Nonono, you don't understand."

"I _understand_ that I'm not letting you stay in that house with him, especially if he hurt you, Kevin. That's all I need."

Kevin sighed, and almost immediately started coughing. "Oh, dear god," he said, sounding scared and dizzy. "Hurry, then."

"You're not coughing up blood, are you?"

"_Don't_ say blood. _Don't._ Please."

* * *

Bryan took the steps up to Kevin's front door two at a time, his momentum from the run carrying him forward with little conscious effort. The door was standing open a crack--Michael apparently didn't close it too well in his drunken rage. Bryan growled and paused on the porch, pulling his .45 handgun out of the shoulder holster under his jacket. He ejected the magazine and counted the rounds in the magazine. _Six left_, he thought grimly. "Don't waste any," he muttered, his Abbey firearms training flooding back.

Right index finger caressing the trigger, he pushed the door open and stepped warily into the house. He lost his footing and slid a bit on the hardwood in the hallway as he passed the living room--looking down, he saw a dark red liquid pooled on the flooring. He took a deep breath through his nose, the smell of blood almost overwhelming him, and continued up the stairs.

As he traveled down the hall to the bathroom, his boot caught on something, almost causing him to trip. He looked down and scowled. Michael was passed out against the wall next to the bathroom door, snoring slightly. Bryan's grip tightened around his gun.

Every cell in his being egged him on to shoot him while he was passed out, to rid Kevin of the demon he had lived with for so long. Kevin didn't deserve for him to be left alive--that would just be cruel, after all he'd suffered through.

All the same, Bryan couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger--not while Michael was such an easy target. He'd witnessed his share of men being gunned down while they weren't able to run, and it wasn't a pretty sight. Kevin would be rid of his demon, but he'd have to view the brains and blood splattered on the wall when he came out of his hiding place. There was little Bryan wanted less, at that moment.

Conflicted, Bryan decided to wait to pass judgement until he'd gotten Kevin to a safe place. _Spencer can watch him while I finish things, if nothing else,_ he thought, trying the doorknob on the bathroom door. The door held, locked from the inside. Holstering his gun, the Russian took a step back and threw his weight at the door, rattling the weak lock. Several more blows brought the door swinging inward.

Kevin was slumped against the cabinet below the bathroom sink. Half-dried blood was caked in his hair around a wound near his temple, and his lips were speckled with red. His knee was bent at an unnatural angle.

Until that moment, Bryan had thought fear had been bred out of him by his childhood in the Abbey. Spencer and Kai routinely accused him of recklessness and glory-seeking--really, he just didn't care enough about his own safety to take threats, to himself or others, seriously. Seeing Kevin passed out against the cabinet, his breathing shallow and ragged, brought fear flooding back from the part of his brain he'd locked away in the darkest corner.

Kevin was going to die if he didn't do something.

Never in his life had Bryan been so concerned for another human being.

Crouching beside the unconscious teenager, Bryan checked for a pulse, trying to remember Spencer's actions from when he'd brought Tala home from a street fight several years previous. _Check the pulse, make sure he's breathing, look for serious wounds..._

In the hall, Michael groaned and shifted. He blinked blearily several times before his eyes came to rest on Bryan's back bending over Kevin. He growled groggily and lurched away from the wall, intent on retaining his property.

Bryan's head snapped up and around to look at the incoming attacker. Reflexively, he slid his gun from the holster and pulled the trigger back three times.

Michael crumpled to the ground in a non-threatening heap, blood seeping from the lump of flesh.

Turning back to the unconscious boy behind him, Bryan pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and texted Spencer before calling 911.

_Headed to hospital. Kevin in bad shape. Call Kai, meet me there._

* * *

"Rei, can you get that? I'm busy," Kai called from the office.

Rei laid the wooden spoon in the middle of the stove and walked over to the phone, his bare toes curling on the cold tile of the kitchen. "We really need to invest in central heating," he muttered, picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Rei, it's Spencer."

Rei switched the cordless phone to his other ear and walked back to the stove. "Hi, Spencer. Is something wrong? It's, like, two in the morning in San Francisco, isn't it?"

"Two forty-five. And there's something you should know."

"Oh my god. Is Kevin okay?"

Spencer sighed, obviously taking extra time forming his thoughts into the least-damaging form possible. "Kevin's in the hospital again," he began carefully.

"Again? What happened this time?"

"Michael attacked him. They don't know the extent of his injuries, but it looks like head trauma, broken ribs, a broken leg and maybe a sprained knee."

Rei leaned against the counter, the phone almost falling from his slack grip.

"Kai, can you come here for a second," he called weakly.

* * *

Hey, look, it's starting to look like a pairing fic. Sort of.

Please review.


	9. Chapter 9

No one's really reviewing, so I'm just going to wait until I have a satisfactory number of reviews on this to update again.

Also, Michael is a jerk. D:

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Michael blinked his heavy eyelids open, looking around at the room like his eyes were covered in several layers of plastic wrap. Groaning, he pushed himself up on what felt like a bed of some kind, only to find a burning pain in his hip and his thigh stopped him short. He gasped and fell back.

A nurse rushed into the hospital room, flying over to the bed and darting around so fast he almost became hard for his slow eyes to see. "You're just fine," he hummed, his voice thin and reedy. He fluttered about him, talking to him in a way that obviously was supposed to calm him down, and checked several thick bandages on his torso and legs.

"What happened to me?"

"You don't remember?" The question unnerved him--he could see that much through the plastic haze.

"No."

He wrestled with herself, still flitting around the bed nervously. "You were shot," he began slowly.

"By who?"

"Well, um... We--and by 'we,' I mean the police and the hospital staff--were hoping that you would be able to identify the attacker? They will be charged, of course..."

Michael tuned him out, studying the bandaged wound on his right thigh. Red speckled the gauze where blood had begun to seep through. His head hurt like hell, no doubt from a hangover. He should've never gone drinking last night--he could only vaguely remember Kevin begging him not to do something, and Bryan Kuznetsov, of all people, in his house trying to steal something, only he couldn't remember what.

Sighing, he shook his head and laid back on the bed. He'd think about it when he was less tired.

* * *

"Come on, Kai!"

"Rei, slow down. He's not going anywhere."

"No, you don't _understand_."

"Wanna bet?"

Spencer looked up to find a worried Chinese young man pulling his childhood friend into the waiting room, their hands looped together in an 'of-course' kind of way. "Spencer," Kai said in greeting, surrendering and letting Rei pull him the last few feet into the room. "Bryan anywhere?"

"Sent him to go get coffee. He was getting restless," Spencer said matter-of-factly.

"I can imagine," Kai said, smirking.

Spencer and Rei looked up at him at the same time, both equally confused.

Kai studied the two of them and sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. "Dear god, please tell me for once I'm not more observant than you two," he muttered.

"You think Bryan has a thing for Kevin?" Rei was nodding slowly, like it was beginning to dawn on him.

"It would explain a few things," Spencer mused, return his eyes to the outdated magazine spread on his knee.

"Like," Rei asked, fishing for details.

"Like him shooting Michael to get Kevin out of the house," he said nonchalantly, like the most natural thing for Bryan to do.

Kai's palm met his forehead with an almost audible smack. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"Kidding about what?"

Kai turned halfway to glare wearily at Bryan. "Care to explain why you _shot _Michael Parker? In _his_ house?"

"He went for Kevin. It was reflexive."

Turning back to look at Rei, the maroon eyed young man raised his eyes in an 'I-told-you-so' gesture.

"You do realize how much I'm going to have to pay to legally get you out of this?"

Rei shoved his shoulder and gave him a look.

Kai rolled his eyes.

"How's Kevin, do you know?"

Bryan looked past his best friend to Rei and released a long breath. "I don't--"

"A punctured lung, four broken ribs, a shattered knee, and possible head trauma," Spencer recited, not once looking up from the article.

"Damn," Kai said slowly, slightly impressed that the kid was still alive.

"Oh my god," Rei breathed, swaying slightly.

Wordlessly, Kai pulled his boyfriend over to the row of chairs on the opposite wall and pulled him down onto his lap.

Bryan studied the distraught young man before turning and walking out of the room without a sound.

"What was that?"

Spencer shook his head. "You know I have no idea."

* * *

Kevin's eyes fluttered briefly, letting him slip into consciousness for several precious seconds. A nurse was attaching an IV drip to his arm, and slipped when he tried to flex his fingers to get some feeling back into his limbs. "Hold still, honey," she said, her fingers moving quicker to get the drip into his arm.

Hazily, Kevin looked up, trying to discern what was being pumped into his body. The bag was a dark reddish-brown color, and looked vaguely like pureed raspberries mixed with a bit of chocolate pudding. "What...?"

"We're just giving you some blood to make up for what you'd lost when you came in," the nurse said soothingly, jabbing the needle into the back of his wrist.

"...Blood?"

Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, Kevin's eyes locked onto the bag like they were super-glued to it.

"Sweetie, are you... Hun, it's okay, it's just--"

Kevin's eyes drifted closed as the sight of blood pushed him out of consciousness once more.

* * *

I hate these "waking up in the hospital what's going on" scenes. And I have two in quick succession. My god. D:

Please review.


	10. Chapter 10

Because xChewy is stuck with ten year olds tonight, and is losing her mind (maybe?). Not as long as I'd like, but it'll work.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Rei stepped cautiously into the hospital room, looking around warily. "Never liked hospitals much," he muttered, clearly agitated.

Kai chuckled and put both hands on his waist, pulling his boyfriend back towards him as he stepped into the room. "I know," he said calmly, resting his chin on Rei's shoulder.

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"You heard Dr. Gauen say that he should make a full recovery."

"Not like that."

Kai sighed. "I don't know that, Rei. No one does."

"I feel so guilty."

"I know."

"I should've said something sooner."

"You couldn't have."

Rei turned his head to look at his boyfriend. "Why not?"

"You've only been worried about this for the past month and a half, remember?"

"You have a much better hold on time than I do."

Kai laughed softly, nuzzling his cheek into Rei's hair. "Only because it's you, babe."

* * *

Bryan leaned against the brick wall outside the hospital, staring blankly at the four lane street bordering the pool of concrete in front of the building.

The doors behind him slid open. Spencer walked up beside him and studied him silently for a moment.

"Go away, Spencer."

A faint smile curved the bulky Russian's lips upward. "Don't tell me you _like_ the runt."

Bryan spluttered for a moment, trying to deny it, before releasing a heavy sigh and returning to staring moodily across the street. "I don't even know anymore, okay," he muttered, arms crossed over his chest and his back flush with the wall.

"It's okay if you do like him, Bryan." When he received no reply, Spencer mused, "I think he'd be good for you, anyway."

"And I'd be terrible for him."

"No, you wouldn't. Because you'd try to be better than you usually are."

"If he gave me a chance to try, yeah." Bryan scuffed the pavement with the toe of his boot. "But he's not going to, not after what he's been through tonight."

"So don't ask him to."

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Yes, you were."

Bryan glared at him out of the corner of his eye. "You brought it up."

Spencer smiled placidly. "But you were thinking about it."

"Damn you."

"Already been damned, Bryan."

"No, that's Tala."

"Maybe you should go ask him for advice."

Bryan stared at Spencer in mock frustration. "Spence, he's straight."

"So ask Mariah."

"Hell no."

"Well, talk to someone about it."

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"I don't count."

"Why not?"

"Because I keep you and Kai and Tala from killing people indiscriminately, and that's about it."

Bryan sighed. "You know you do a hell of a lot more than that."

"No, I don't."

"Stop arguing."

"Not going to."

"Now who's being immature?"

The two laughed together for a moment before being sucked back into their thoughts.

"You should go get some sleep."

"Like hell."

Spencer smiled. "See, you're already better for him than Michael." At Bryan's glare, he held up both hands in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay. But you're no help to anyone when you're sleep deprived. Yes, Bryan, I know what I'm talking about--don't argue with me."

Bryan huffed and crossed his arms childishly.

"And the three of us are here with him--it's not like you're leaving him alone."

Glaring at Spencer, Bryan was met by a cool stare and a raised eyebrow. "Fine," he sighed, looking back at the windows across the street, and muttered under his breath, "Damn, wish I had a cigarette."

"Bryan." Spencer regarded him with weary disapproval.

"I don't smoke anymore, you made me quit."

"I didn't make you quit, that was Mariah. She couldn't stand the smell of smoke on you."

"But you agreed with her."

"You know how bad smoking is for you. You're lucky you don't have lung cancer now."

"Yes, Mom."

Spencer glared at him half-heartedly. "Go home, Bryan."

"Nope, don't think so."

Spencer watched Bryan walk back into the hospital and sighed.

* * *

Bryan's an ex-smoker. For the hell of it.

Please review.


	11. Chapter 11

Finals in a little more than two weeks of school days. The light at the end of the tunnel is back on, folks.

In story news, this has a little more swearing than usual, and Michael jumps off the deep end.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

"No, wait, stop! You can't do that!"

Michael looked defiantly at the nurse and tore off the last of the tape securing the IV. Without a word, he pulled out the needle and dropped it, watching it swing for a moment under the bag before returning his attention to the door. The slim, mousy woman now staring at him in horror gasped again as he pushed the blanket off of his legs and stood up, slightly unsteady from the medication and the gunshot wounds on his hip and thigh.

He ignored the nurse's cries for someone to stop him as he limped down the hallway. It had all come back to him in the night--Kevin's insolence, his ungrateful behavior after Michael had worked so hard to pay _Kevin's_ hospital bills from the accident that _Kevin _had so foolishly stumbled into. _I wouldn't be surprised if he did it on purpose just to spite me,_ Michael thought bitterly, no longer able to feel the burning sensation in his thigh from the wound. He couldn't feel anything but rage. Pure rage.

And then, _Bryan_... He had stolen Kevin. The _bastard_ had shot him and then stolen Michael's _property. _Kevin was _his. _No one else's, especially not that son of a _bitch_ Bryan Kuznetsov.

He growled as his mind coursed over the three days he had spent in the hospital, and hit the night before like a pothole in his mental track. In the middle of the night, Kai had slipped into his room. He had bit out a terse warning before slipping back out of the room, not stopping to listen to the drug-confused reply.

_"Stay away from Kevin, Michael. If I catch you anywhere near him, Spencer and I will not hesitate to beat you to a pulp. And I shudder to think of what Bryan would do to you."_

He growled again at the memory of what Kai had said. _Fine, then. _If he couldn't have Kevin, then no one could.

* * *

Kevin blinked heavily and mumbled something even he couldn't comprehend.

"Hey, Kevin," someone off to his left whispered.

He blinked again--one, two, three seconds before opening his eyes--and rolled his head to look. "Rei...?"

In response, Rei smiled with a mixture of relief and fatigue and shifted from his chair to the bed. "You're okay," he whispered, more to himself, and pulled Kevin into a tight hug.

"Rei...?"

He pulled away slightly and laughed breathily at the confusion on his friend's face. "You're so lucky, you know that?"

Kevin lowered his eyes with a guilty sigh. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice slightly raw still. "I... I..."

"Shhh, it's okay. All that matters is that you're safe now. Bryan got to you in time, you're okay..." He buried his face in Kevin's shoulder again.

"Bryan...? He..."

Rei pulled away again and ran a slightly trembling hand through Kevin's hair, offering a small, reassuring smile. Through the haze of drugs and half-consciousness, Kevin was reminded vaguely of his earliest memories of his mom.

"You called him before you passed out, remember? He got you from your house after you passed out and brought you here."

"He... He did?" Kevin bit his lip and looked down at the sheets covering his legs again.

"Yeah. He's been here almost the whole three days you've been out. ...He's really worried about you, Kevin."

Whether as a side effect of the drugs or a product of the stress he had been under, Kevin felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed the bridge of his nose into Rei's shoulder. "I'm sorry, okay? I know everyone's worried about me, and I feel so guilty about it, and I don't want anyone to worry because when they do I feel so helpless and like I can't take care of myself, and...and..." The rest of the muffled apology was lost under a choking sob.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Rei whispered, rubbing Kevin's back. "We just want you to be safe. I wish you would've talked to me or someone and let us help sooner, but it happened the way it happened, and I'm just happy you're safe again. I'm never letting you go through something like this ever, ever again..."

Kevin choked on another sob and weakly pressed his nose into Rei's collarbone.

The door opened with a quiet squeak, followed by the quiet tapping of steel-toed boots on the linoleum floor around the bed. A weight sank onto the other edge of the bed. Kevin sniffled and lifted his head a fraction of an inch.

"Hey, Kai," Rei said quietly, still rubbing Kevin's back with one hand while he reached over Kevin's legs and laced his fingers into Kai's.

"Hey, babe," Kai murmured back, leaning over to kiss his boyfriend. "Nice to see you awake, Kevin."

"Kai..." Kevin buried his face back in Rei's shoulder.

"How d'you feel, kid?"

"Crummy. My shoulder hurts," he complained wearily.

Kai nodded slowly. "Yeah, Bryan said your shoulder looked like it had been dislocated."

"Ouch," Kevin said dispassionately, his head still on Rei's shoulder. "Hate it when that happens."

Raising an eyebrow, Kai asked, "It's happened before?"

Rei smiled dismissively, squeezing his boyfriend's hand to get his attention. "He fell out of the top of a tree when we were younger. The impact when he hit the ground was enough to jar it out of its socket."

"Damn."

"Yeah." Kevin closed his eyes and sighed. "It sucked."

Kai chuckled, covering it with a cough at a stern look from Rei.

"Did you get Bryan to go home?" Rei changed the subject with a meaningful look.

"No," Kai sighed, glaring at Kevin's knees. "The bastard is insisting on staying with him."

Kevin blinked his eyes half-open with interest. "He's still here?"

"Unfortunately. I'm trying to get him to go back to the apartment and get some sleep."

"Can I talk to him?"

* * *

Hey, I said Rei was maternal.

Please review.


	12. Chapter 12

Because xChewy came out from under her rock and reviewed last chapter. And promised an offering (need I remind her).

Kai and Bryan are interesting when they're both only half awake and running on caffeine.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Bryan yawned and stretched his arms over his head. He was still tired as hell, but the past three hours, when his need of sleep had shoved off his worry, had helped.

"Bryan, you know I hate you, right?"

Looking over at Kai standing in the doorway of the waiting room, he grinned. "It's mutual," he returned with sarcastic cheer.

Kai rolled his eyes. "You're an ass."

"So are you."

"Quit it."

"You first."

Another eye roll.

Bryan laughed, the weariness of the past three days giving way to the usual jackassery.

"Kevin requests an audience," Kai said casually, sauntering over to the coffee pot.

"He's awake?"

"Yeah. Rei's sitting with him." Kai looked over and smirked at the shift in Bryan's expression from blank confusion to panicked understanding. "Jesus, you look like he's going to kill you if you go in there."

"I wish that was all he was going to do," he muttered uneasily.

Kai laughed, a slow chuckle that gave way to the doubled-over, slightly hysterical laughter of one who had been awake for several hours too long. "You're an idiot," he concluded when he regained his breath. "Just go talk to him. He's too tired and drugged up to remember much of anything later, anyway."

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." Bryan stood and shuffled to the doorway of the waiting room, Kai trailing after him with a Styrofoam cup of scalding, concentrated coffee.

* * *

The door creaked open hesitantly, drawing Kevin's attention from the magazine Rei had brought him. He smiled hesitantly at the green eyes peaking into the room. "Hey, Bryan."

Rei looked up from his chair by the window. "Bryan, come on in."

The Russian complied, closing the door behind him. "How're you feeling," he asked, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"M'okay, I guess. Still really sore." Kevin offered another small, apologetic smile. "Rei and Spencer told me what happened. I guess I owe you a thank-you, huh?"

Bryan shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. "Would've done the same for anyone," he muttered, studying the linoleum.

"Well, thank you anyway. You...probably saved my life, and all that junk."

Rei looked between the two as silence descended, and stood up abruptly. "I'm going to go find Kai," he said, rather unnecessarily, and slipped out of the room.

Silence descended like second-hand smoke, and Bryan felt the first two fingers on his left hand twitch, aching to hold a cigarette to his lips. _No, I said I'd quit, and I did. _

"Are you okay?"

Bryan opened his eyes--he didn't even realize he had closed them to begin with--and looked away from Kevin's concernedly curious gaze.

"You look like you're struggling with something."

"Just a bad habit."

Kevin laughed softly, a smile lighting his eyes for one of the first times Bryan had noticed. _I wish they'd sparkle like that all the time,_ he caught himself thinking, and mentally smacked himself.

"I know a thing or two about bad habits," Kevin was saying, looking at the blanket draped over the cast on his leg with an almost sad fondness. "You trying to quit doing something?"

Despite every reasonable piece of him telling him to keep his mouth shut, Bryan found himself saying, "Used to smoke. Only quit about eight months ago."

"Eight months, that's pretty good for a former smoker." Kevin wrinkled his nose. "Lee's granddad smoked like a chimney. It was gross--but the smoke rings were kind of cool."

Bryan chuckled. "Never tried blowing smoke rings."

"Don't start--like I said, it's gross." Kevin grinned. "Not that you have to listen to anything I have to say."

"Yeah..." Bryan trailed off, realizing that he was no longer itching for a cigarette like he had been.

Silence, although far more comfortable than the feeling of second-hand smoke, twisted around them.

"Hey Bryan?"

"Mmm?" Bryan looked from the window to the violet eyes regarding him hesitantly from the bed.

"Did you...kill Michael?"

"I..." He trailed off, thinking back to what little he had heard of it in the past few days. "I don't know, Kevin. I haven't heard anything about it."

"Oh." Kevin returned his eyes to the blanket.

"Would you be upset if I had?"

Kevin sat in thoughtful silence for a few seconds. "...Actually, I wouldn't." He looked up and offered his small, pained smile again. "It sounds really bad, but I wouldn't mind if he was dead."

Bryan just smiled. "It's okay, I get it." _He's getting out of this--he'll be okay._

* * *

This is most likely fraught with errors--I'm exhausted.

Please review.


	13. Chapter 13

In light of physical therapy, two new prescriptions to add to my arsenal, and 9 days before my final exams start, I figured I'd update now while I have the chance. I'm almost wrapped up anyway.

(Grace is going to kill me for this ;-;)

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Kevin shoved the last of his collection of t-shirts into Kai's borrowed suitcase and looked around the bedroom for anything else he wanted to shove in before he left. His eyes fell on a framed picture on the dresser, and his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his windpipe. Walking over, he picked it up off the dusty surface, turning around and leaning against the drawers. His fingertips moved from the simple wooden frame to the faces under the glass--him and Michael when they first started dating. Michael's arms were wrapped around his neck, his fingers gripping loosely at the material of the shirt Kevin had been wearing. Kevin himself was smiling up at his boyfriend, a faint green line of gum clutched between his molars. His eyes hardened as his fingers trailed over Michael's photographic grip on Kevin's collar--even then, he had just been a possession, something to play with and then leave in a corner until it piqued his interest again. It was all a lie, every time he had said "I love you", every time Michael had kissed him and said that he would never let anything hurt him.  
_  
_

_Anything else, maybe, _Kevin thought bitterly, setting the photograph face down on the top of the dresser with a definitive click.

"Kevin?"

Turning to look at the door, Kevin offered a weakly faked smile and pushed his hair away from his eyes. "Yeah, Bryan?"

"I'm going to drive over to the apartment to pick up Kai and Rei--do you want to come with me?"

Kevin's mind flickered to Michael asking "You'll be okay here while I'm gone, right?" and he smiled faintly, the simple wording of the question making him feel better. "Nah, I still have some of my stuff to pack up in here. I'll be here when you get back."

Bryan looked skeptical, but nodded anyway. "Okay, if you insist. We'll go get lunch or something when I come back, yeah?"

Kevin grinned--Bryan always did that when he finished phrasing a question as a statement, whether consciously or not. "Yeah," he echoed, his grin softening to a grateful smile. "Thanks, Bryan."

"No problem. See you when I get back."

He disappeared down the hallway again, leaving Kevin to finish looking around the room for his belongings.

Seeing nothing of great value to him left in the room, he zipped the top of the suitcase and lifted it off the bed to haul down the stairs to the door. Both hands on the leather handle, he pulled the cumbersome piece of luggage down the flight of stairs, almost losing his grip and stumbling twice. He set it down for a second at the bottom before resuming his task of carrying it to the door.

As he passed the kitchen, Kevin saw a shadow dart from the back door to the wall separating the kitchen from the hallway out of the corner of his eye. He froze--he had been certain he'd been alone in the house. Slowly going through the list of people who could be in the house with him, he shook his head vigorously to clear it of the one name that kept appearing--Michael.

Against his better judgment, he set the suitcase down in the middle of the hallway and went to investigate.

Standing just out of sight of the doorway, Michael's eyes narrowed as he watched Kevin turn in a slow circle in the middle of the room. He lunged at him and grabbed his shoulder, digging his fingers into the skin below the t-shirt.

Kevin squeaked in surprise, his eyes wide with fear. "Michael," he choked out, trying desperately to pull away.

"If I can't have you, no one can," he hissed, rage burning in his eyes like hot embers stirred by the wind. "That bastard can't save you from punishment this time."

Kevin's eyes darted around the room, looking frantically for something--anything--he could use in his defense. A knife was laying on the counter--just outside his reach.

Michael saw him look at it in despair and grinned with crazed sadism. Reaching over, he scooped the knife off the counter and turned it in his grip, pointing the blade at the boy's collarbone.

Hot, terrified tears began to leak out of Kevin's eyes as he closed them as tightly as he could in anticipation.

The only thing running through his mind as he waited for the knife to fall was Bryan's name.

* * *

Bryan drummed on the steering wheel, looking anxiously around at the intersection.

"Calm down," Kai ordered evenly from the passenger seat. "He's fine--you're getting worked up over nothing."

"I just don't like leaving him alone," he muttered, pulling forward as the light turned green. "Every time I do, something bad happens."

Rei smiled in the back seat. "You've got it _bad_," he noted with a grin at his boyfriend.

"No kidding," Kai snickered, reaching back to grab Rei's hand.

"Not as bad as you two. No PDA in the car."

"He might have a point." Rei shrugged but didn't move to let go of Kai's hand.

"Nah--we're practically considered married, we have the right. Bryan, on the other hand, is too chicken to ask Kevin out at all."

"Quit talking about me like I'm not here," Bryan muttered irritably. "Need I remind you that I'm the one driving right now?"

Rei laughed. "Which I believe is an effective threat. Maybe we should watch our step a bit?"

Kai just grinned.

"Are we close, Bryan?"

"Yeah--just a few more blocks."

The car pulled into a relatively safe-looking suburban neighborhood. "Hard to believe all this happened in such a quiet place," Rei mumbled, studying the passing houses out the window.

"Michael didn't look like the abusive type, either," Kai reminded him, still holding his hand. "We seriously misjudged him."

Bryan hit the brakes hard in front of a concrete driveway, cutting off all conversation. "That's not supposed to be there," he muttered worriedly, killing the engine and climbing out of the car.

Kai's grip on Rei's hand released, and he reached for his own door.

"What's not supposed to be there? What's going on?"

Reluctantly, Kai twisted around to face his boyfriend. "This is Kevin's house," he explained, his shoulders visibly tensing up, "and that's Michael's car."

* * *

What did I tell you?

Please review.


	14. Chapter 14

All good things must come to an end. And so must this...thing, apparently. I'm not too fond of the ending, but eh. I'm too lazy to redo it. And I always hate my endings, anywho.

Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER:** Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

* * *

Broken Valentine

Bryan bounded up the front steps, his mind reeling through a disturbing flashback to a similar incident on a night a week before. The door was still closed as he had left it--_but he could've closed it behind him,_ Bryan reasoned with himself, his brain racing.

Pushing open the door, he rushed down the hallway, almost tripping over the suitcase Kevin had been packing.

"Kevin," he called out frantically.

"Bryan!" The panicked young voice drew him into the kitchen, berating himself for leaving his gun at the apartment for once in his life.

Michael was glaring daggers at the doorway when he appeared, a knife poised in one hand several inches above Kevin's shoulder. The other hand was gripping Kevin's collarbone so tightly the knuckles had turned bone white, forcing him to his knees. The skin around his cast was cracked and bleeding all the way around.

"If I can't have him," Michael growled, his eyes dilated and glazed with bloodlust, "no one can, Kuznetsov." He grinned viciously down at Kevin and readjusted his grip on the knife in mid air. "Say goodbye, Kevin."

Without thinking, Bryan dove for Kevin as the knife fell towards the base of his neck. Wrapping his arms around Kevin's skinny waist as momentum carried them both forward, Bryan felt the knife graze his shoulder and draw blood as he twisted and let his back take the brunt of impact with the cabinets. Kevin's hand blindly found his in the millisecond following, gripping it with the strength born of absolute terror.

Kai skidded into the kitchen doorway, teeth gritted and gun drawn like an Old West gunslinger. "Michael," he growled, flicking the safety off on the handle of the gun with one thumb and training the barrel on his opponent. "I warned you, didn't I? But you just can't leave anything alone, can you?"

Michael shouted an incoherent cry of outrage and lunged at Kai, hands outstretched as if to strangle him.

Kai tugged on the trigger, his arms locked straight from the shoulders in front of him.

The gun echoed through the otherwise empty house twice, making their ears ring.

Michael crumpled to the tile, gurgling languidly before collapsing in a limp heap.

Silence boomed around them for several eternities.

"Is he...," Kevin trailed off in a hoarse whisper.

"Should be," Kai said, nudging the body with his toe before stepping over it. "I don't miss too often."

"And he'd been shot three times before."

"That, too," he nodded to Bryan, kneeling beside the pair on the floor. Gently taking Kevin's chin in his thumb and forefinger, he made the boy look him in the eyes. "Kevin, I need you to look at me."

Reluctantly, Kevin blinked his eyes up to meet Kai's gaze, struggling not to flinch away.

Kai studied him for several long seconds, watching him blink and his pupils and breathing return, slowly but surely, to normal. _Good, the shock is wearing off._

"He's all yours, Bryan," Kai said finally, releasing his hold on Kevin and standing up.

Kevin turned and buried his face in Bryan's chest out of pure instinct, his hand still locked tightly with the Russian's.

Looking down at the young male who had inadvertently wound up in his lap, Bryan released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and rested his cheek on the mass of green hair pressed against his chest. His arm tightened around Kevin a little bit as he stared at the body beyond his outstretched boots. "You gonna be okay?"

Kevin raised his head a fraction of an inch. "Yeah," he whispered, his gaze drawn to their joined hands. "Sorry," he mumbled, regain a little bit of his voice. He moved to pull his hand out of Bryan's.

The Russian instead tightened his grip on Kevin's hand and reached up to brush his bangs away from his eyes. Gathering every ounce of courage he had in his being, Bryan leaned down and brushed his lips against the side of Kevin's cheekbone.

"I'm always going to be here when you need me, okay? All you have to do is ask."

* * *

Kevin shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. His ribs were still sore, though the rest of him was healing quickly. The airplane rocked a little bit, stilling his fidgeting for a moment. "Hey, Bryan?"

The young man across the aisle from him looked over, closing the magazine he'd bought at the newsstand of the airport ("Finally, something printed in Russian," he had exclaimed). "Yeah?"

Smiling sheepishly, Kevin studied his knees, one still encased partially by a cast, and picked at the hem of his t-shirt. "Would you...mind coming over here? The aisle seat is empty anyway, and...I'd feel a lot better if you were, y'know, over here...."

Wordlessly, Bryan unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped across the aisle, sinking into the empty seat. "Better?"

Kevin smiled wider and nuzzled his cheek into Bryan's shoulder. "Much. Thank you," he muttered into the fabric of the Russian's jacket.

Bryan chuckled and looped an arm around Kevin's bruised shoulders. "Get some sleep. You'll need it when we get to Russia--I hear Mariah's dying to see you."

Sleepily, Kevin smiled again and closed his eyes. "That'll be fun," he mumbled.

After several seconds of silence, a very quiet, very tired voice interrupted Bryan's thoughts. "I love you, Bryan..."

He blinked, and smiled, and kissed the top of Kevin's head, opening his magazine on his knee again without looking. "Love you, too, Kevin. Go to sleep."

* * *

THE END. Muahahhahahahaha justice-filled ending. Sorry. I just wanted to write someone getting shot. It was a let-down even for me, trust me. ;-;

Please review.


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